


whiskey kisses

by tchallas



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Drunk Kissing, M/M, They have a thing, pre S2, theyre in love tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6105688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tchallas/pseuds/tchallas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your apartment is boilin’, Dan.” Jack sniffs, shedding his jacket and loosening his tie. Daniel swallows, eyes catching the just barest of tan skinned collarbones and slim fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whiskey kisses

**Author's Note:**

> first jackdaniels fic haha it's kinda iffy and probs ooc but enjoy!

Jack had always been Thompson to Daniel. There was no magical realization or something like that. Daniel didn’t fall in love to the sweet croon of Sinatra and to the backdrop of mellow sunsets. Jack didn’t set his jacket on Daniel’s shoulders when it was cold or something equally disgustingly cheesy, it just happened. As if one day, his brain decided Jack Thompson was worth the time and set itself on that task.

Sousa has never been one for long term. He thinks hard about this as Jack nips at his throat, against the crevice of his collarbone and another absent moan is muffled into Jack's shoulder. Long term relationships are too hard to manage, especially in this line of work and besides, one can't expect long term from Jack Thompson. Daniel's fingers tighten against the smooth cotton of Jack's dress shirt — the muggy July heat was enough for everyone to shed their jackets and roll up their sleeves — and his fingertips slip against his crutch. 

"Jack." He breathes, a slight protest and a quiet urge to keep going. Jack's hand is already against the buckle of his belt and Daniel rests himself against Jack, slightly taller and firmer.

"Just a moment, Sousa," his voice is a low murmur and when he pulls back, his pale eyes are a vision of concentration.

They're hiding in the SSR lab while the techs are at lunch and it's almost unspoken that no one enters the lab during the lunch hour. Jack had been quite confident no one would find them as he'd slid a hand over the small of Daniel's back and led him far into the corner of the lab. Daniel sighs and let's Jack kiss him slowly, mouth pressing warmly against his, licking into his mouth tasting of orange juice and the remnants of a fruit salad. Jack's hand is steady and slick inside Daniel's trousers, jerking him expertly enough that Daniel lets his head fall against Jack's shoulder, moaning quietly. 

"'Atta boy, Sousa," Jack encourages mildly, breath hot against Daniel's ear, biting softly at his lobe. He comes like that, whimpering quietly against Jack's neck. When he offers to help Jack with his hard on, he gets dismissed with a wave of Jack's hand, "taken care of." 

He hobbles out of the lab a few minutes after Jack, cleans up in the men's room and resumes his work. Peggy gives him a look; red lips pursed and eyebrow raised. He scoffs and she shrugs. Daniel has to force himself to button his shirt up to his collar, any less and the quite evident marks Jack left become visible. Jack smirks when he sees Daniel, the idiot who's the only one with his shirt is buttoned up in the baking weather. 

"Your fault." He mutters under his breath when he passes by Jack. 

Jack merely smiles. 

He gets home around 12, scrubbing a hand over his chin and collapsing onto his weak couch. It groans slightly as he adjusts and he grumbles, leaning back and shutting his eyes. Daniel contemplates passing out for the night right there, suit and all because he's tired from the day's events. Daniel touches the blossoming bruise on his jawline, wincing. 

He's rested for a total of five minutes before there's a sharp knock on his door. Daniel's too tired to worry about someone trying to rob him, he sighs, "'s open." It's Jack — Daniel's only mildly surprised, the only person who visits him aside from his landlord is Jack — shaking a bottle of whiskey and grinning ear to ear. 

"You look like an idiot, well, more than you usually do – close the door." He says and Jack shuts the door behind him and sinks into Daniel's couch beside him. 

"Any particular reason you've graced me with your godly presence." Daniel says with a sigh and Jack rolls his eyes, setting the bottle down and turning to him.

"Just wanted to see you," Jack stands back up, hunting for drinking glasses.  
His heart thumps a little faster.

Jack comes back with a coffee cup and a water glass. He pours the drink and sits back down, sipping his coffee cup thoughtfully. 

"Carter did well today." He says out of spite and Jack raises an eyebrow. They'd gone out to track a suspect in a recent bank robbery and he'd been the first to spot their guy. Of course the guy resisted arrest and gave Daniel a few good punches. Jack found him sprawled on the ground, groaning and Peggy chased the goddamn idiot into an alley before whacking his lights out. 

"Yeah, she did. Though he got you pretty good, eh?" Jack nods in agreement and reaches over. His fingers are gentle and unlike him as he brushes a hand over Daniel’s jaw, frowning.

Daniel tenses, the area is tender and immediately, Jack pulls his hand away. Absently, Daniel drinks the whiskey, finishing the amount in his glass quickly. The burn is familiar and nice, he thinks about that when Jack smiles.

The bottle is half gone by 2am and Daniel's pleasantly buzzed, sipping the last remnants of his glass. He hiccups, unable to stop himself from laughing. His mind is sluggish but he feels pretty good, warm and comfortable despite the bruising on his jaw and the ache in his feet.

“Your apartment is boilin’, Dan.” Jack sniffs, shedding his jacket and loosening his tie. Daniel swallows, eyes catching the just barest of tan skinned collarbones and slim fingers.

Jack says something, something unspeakably funny and Daniel chuckles, the drink sloshing in his mouth. Some of it dribbles out of the corner of his mouth and slides down his chin.

“Let me — let me help you…” Jack pats his thigh and Daniel snorts, hiccuping again.

He presses his hand over his mouth and hauls himself up – even though the idea is incredulous – and climbs into Jack’s lap.

Jack's smile is dopey and disgustingly endearing to Daniel and he hiccups against his will. Jack's hand is firm against hip, thumb sliding lazily against his hipbone. It's nice.

“We gotta sleep…” He trails off, “work tomorrow.”

Hiccup.

Jack mumbles something incoherent against Daniel's neck, the soft puffs of air causing the hairs on Daniel's neck to rise. He struggles to push himself off of Jack, gripping his shoulder and hoisting his upper half up. The liquor has made him dizzy enough to be sluggish and Jack holds onto his arm as he takes a seat.

“Can I?” Jack says, motioning slightly. He knows what Jack is saying and he swallows, heart leaping in his throat.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, slow and muddled with whiskey and promises of something nice.

They meet halfway, somewhat sweeter than the burn of alcohol and kinder than Jack’s unforgiving mouth in the SSR lab. He opens up easily and let's Jack mouth against his lip, sucking gently.

Jack's hand is on his jaw, cupping the sight of his bruising with newfound tenderness, and a silent apology. For what, Daniel doesn't know.

He tips his head back slightly and gives Jack more access, fingers playing absently with the curls at the base of Jack’s neck. Daniel can feel Jack move him slightly, with his hand at his shoulder and a steady push until he's draped a little less elegantly over the arm of the couch. 

They pull away, briefly and he can't help but smile crookedly, matching the grin on Jack’s face.

“You have the lips of a dame.” Jack drawls lazily and flicks his gaze from Daniel's eyes to his mouth.

He cranes his head back, “I suppose you've had an up close experience.” He says casually.

“You have the lips of a dame but kiss better than one, Dan.” He continues in the same drawl. Pauses.

“Soft and sweet, eh?” He speaks slowly with the gently lag of alcohol in his voice, “sweeter than cherry pie.”

At this point, Daniel is positive it's the alcohol talking.

Jack leans forward slowly, body on top of Daniel's as his gaze travels to Daniel's neck, the barest hint of a satisfactory smirk appearing against his laughter lines when he sees the pink and slightly purple markings on Daniel's neck. 

“And so pink, Jesus, Sousa, it's gotta be a hell lot of paint on that mouth’a yours.” His thumb catches against Daniel's bottom lip and his breath hitches, heart thumping wildly.

“Sweet talk don't work here, Thompson.” He manages to say as confidently as he can.

A small smile and a laugh, tinkering like rusted bells.

“I would be disappointed if it did.” He murmurs, grazing his knuckles against Daniel's jaw.

Daniel tilts his head forward and kisses him.


End file.
